The End.

After a month of mooning and hoping that things might just get right at the right time, I finally gave up and called him. Before I called him, I knew it was over. I tried to let it pass thinking that I may just have the strength to forget whatever disappointments I have of him and continue where we left off. But I can't. It was too much to bear. And I don't really have the strength to continue batterring my heart. I am tired of crying every night. As much as I love him and is hoping of being with him for the few years left of my life, I cannot continue with the way things are going on right now. I am trying to make things work and he's not even thinking of trying. It takes two to tango and I am doing a lonely dance.

I haven't cried the hardest since my daughter died. The difference is that, with my baby, it was a hopeless case. It was out of my hands. It was something I cannot control in any way. Whereas with this heartbreak, it was something that can be nourished thereby giving you half the control to make it work. But like I said, I did the best with my half. He did his half badly.

I was at the lowest point of my life when he came back. He took me up again. I never expected that he'll drag me back down. What is so painful is that I don't know the real reason. Really, whatever the reason I can get to accept as long as there is one. But keeping me blind is making it very hard.

Another loss. Another low. I have to get over this hurdle again and get up and move on. The last thing I want to feel is to pity myself.

After everything, I still wish him well. I love him you know. I am hurt at how this turned out to be but I don't regret it. At least I tried one last time to make things work for us. I took the risk and although I failed to make the relationship work, I didn't fail to let him know that I love him. Besides, my time is short. This could have probably saved me from mourning more on what could have been.